


and marshmallows

by BriaMaria



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, Fluff, Frottage, M/M, Professor!Harry, Riding, last christmas, so fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 08:42:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13120182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BriaMaria/pseuds/BriaMaria
Summary: Louis Tomlinson’s ass was wet. Well the whole back of him was wet, but it was really, really seeping through the thin jeggings that he swore to Lottie were jeans. In this moment, though, lying spread eagle in the snow bank that was his front yard he admitted that they were indeed some kind of useless fabric that wasn’t denim.“Ummm.” The voice was deep, hesitant and came from the little walk leading up to Louis’ house. Fucking fantastic. Someone to witness his misery. “Are you alright?”Louis squeezed his eyes shut hoping that the person would just go away.--The one where Harry has a personal attachment to Louis' house, and Louis can't stop picturing the beautiful stranger dancing in his kitchen.





	and marshmallows

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dinosaursmate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dinosaursmate/gifts).



> This is written for the lovely KK, who is an amazing writer and fabulous person :)) You are a light in this fandom. Merry Christmas love!!
> 
> TWs: mentions of homophobia in the 1950s/60s; mentions of minor characters' deaths (they are old and lived a happy life)

Louis Tomlinson’s ass was wet. Well the whole back of him was wet, but it was really, really seeping through the thin jeggings that he swore to Lottie were jeans. In this moment, though, lying spread eagle in the snow bank that was his front yard he admitted that they were indeed some kind of useless fabric that wasn’t denim.

“Ummm.” The voice was deep, hesitant and came from the little walk leading up to Louis’ house.

Fucking fantastic. Someone to witness his misery.

“Are you alright?” The voice called. Louis squeezed his eyes shut hoping that the person would just go away.

The soft crunch of snow giving beneath boot confirmed that ignoring the problem hadn't been the best strategy. The guy was coming to investigate.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Louis said, hoping to deter the busy-body. Couldn’t a man hang some Christmas lights in peace these days? And okay, since he may have seen Louis' spectacular tumble from the ladder, it probably made this guy a good person for checking in. But Louis' ass was wet and he wasn't feeling exactly charitable toward anyone at the moment.

“Do you need me to get help?”

The guy’s progress toward him was slow, but he seemed determined.

“Seriously, dude. I’m good. Snow broke my fall and all that.” Louis tried again. And he really believed at least part of it. Breathing no longer hurt, which was probably a good sign. He could wiggle his toes, so that was another positive. Moving at all in this moment seemed rather daunting, but he was sure that would change. Just give him a few minutes.

“But see…” There was a little huff of air like the guy was getting winded making his way over. Good. “There’s a chance you could be bleeding internally and what if…”--another breath and deeper crunch this time--”I just left you and you couldn’t move and you ended up out here over”---cough, gasp, crunch--”night and then were crying out for help”--the crunching was closer now---”but no one could hear you and then you froze to death.”

“Wow that’s a captivating story you’ve come up with there,” Louis tried for snark but he knew he was losing a fighting battle. “I’m really rooting for the protagonist.”

And then there was a face looming above his. For one disorienting moment Louis wondered if he really had died and gone to fucking heaven. If that were the case, though, he probably wouldn’t be able to think “fuck” so much...so maybe not.

“Hello!” The guy accompanied the greeting with a little wave even though he was wearing...Oh my god, he was wearing mittens.

Louis groaned and closed his eyes.

“Oh, no.” The guy dropped to his knees beside Louis. “See, you’ve taken a turn.”

“Fuck, no. I’m fine. Get off,” Louis batted away the dude’s hands as he started poking Louis in the ribs. Then he peeked one eye open. “What exactly were you going to do there if I was bleeding out?”

Pretty dude narrowed his eyes as he shifted his weight back to sit on his heels. “At least…” he held up one of the mittened hands to his chest and pressed his lips together. “At least you wouldn’t have been alone.”

He said it with such a straight face, Louis took him seriously for the span of a heartbeat. Then a hint of a dimple in pink-tinged cheeks gave away the game, and Louis started giggling. It kind of hurt his ribs, but for some reason that just made him laugh harder, and it soon became contagious.

The guy at first just watched Louis, head tilted, cautious smile on his lips and then a little laugh escaped, more puff of air then anything else. But it set Louis off even harder for no reason other than he was now picturing this gorgeous giraffe having had to struggle through the snow to get to him and the image tickled a funny bone that was already over-sensitized.

As Louis’ curled in on himself with his belly laughs, the dude fully joined in.

Soon he was sprawled out next to Louis. “You should have seen your…”

“Oh my god.”

“...limbs were everywhere…”

“Stop, stop.”

“And then splat!” the dude smacked his hands together, which set them spiralling once more.

It was minutes not seconds later that Louis finally calmed down, wiping his eyes.

The guy propped himself on one elbow, his gaze on Louis’ face, humor lingering in the soft lines by his eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Louis ran through a quick inventory again. Moving already seemed less scary than it had right after he’d slipped from the ladder. “Yeah. I think I may pull through this time.”

The dimple again. Louis smiled back and everything just kind of … stopped.

It was winter in Massachusetts, which meant the world had a bit of a hush to it anyway, but this was different. Everything around them faded and became blurry on the edges as they stared at each other.

The guy was beautiful. There was no other word for it. He wore his hair long in deep brown curls that brushed his shoulders and framed a face made of rose-tinted porcelain. Raspberry cupid bow lips formed a slight pout, and his green eyes were turned crystal by the soft light of the morning.

“Hi,” Louis finally whispered and then wanted to sink beneath the snow because could he sound more like a blushing 12-year-old with a school yard crush?

But the guy’s smile only deepened, turning bashful so that he was even prettier. “Hi.”

Jesus. Louis cleared his throat and looked away lest he do something incredibly ridiculous like snake his hand up behind the dude’s neck and pull him down for a quick make-out sesh in the melting snow.

The little movement broke the spell that had been holding them in a bubble and the dude sat up and moved out of Louis’ personal space. Louis missed the warmth of his body immediately.

“Um, not to be rude or anything but…” Louis sat up himself, with only a slight protest from his battered skeletal system.

“Oh fuck. Who am I, right? Oh god, sorry I was you know”--he gestured toward the goddamn ladder that was still propped up next to Louis’ house--”because you fell and then I”--cue gesture to the shoveled path and then the footsteps through the snow--”had to trek over and then, yeah.”

The guy sighed, his eyes wide as if he’d just recounted an epic journey. “Right,” Louis drawled out slowly, hoping to prompt but not startle him.

“Fuck. I’m Harry.”

“There we go,” Louis murmured, sticking out his hand. “I’m Louis. Tomlinson. Louis Tomlinson.”

Harry bit into the tip of his mitten--fucking adorable--and yanked his fingers free. “I know.”

His palm was immediately enveloped by Harry’s larger one and the warmth of it was almost painful after being in the cold for so long.

“Well then you’re one up on me,” Louis said as he quickly pulled his hand free and eyed the lower half of his own body. Standing up was definitely the next step. The question was how much his legs were going to embarrass him.

But before he could do much weighing of pros and cons, large hands slotted in underneath his armpits and he was just … lifted… to his feet. One second he was on the ground, the next standing, held steady by Harry’s palms against his ribcage.

They were all but embracing, and were far too close for strangers. Louis looked up at Harry through his eyelashes like he did when he was trying to flirt and this was all sort of insane and weird, but also kind of nice. And Louis didn’t know what to do with that.

Harry must not have either. “Can you make me hot chocolate?” he blurted out before scrunching up his face like he wanted to slap himself in the forehead. “Nope. Sorry. I didn’t mean that it just came out because it’s winter and it’s cold and you know”--he took his hand off Louis to wave it around randomly--”marshmallows.”

“And...marshmallows?” Louis was on the verge of giggles again, hopelessly endeared by this ridiculous, nervous, strange, gorgeous person.

Harry’s eyes were closed and he was breathing deeply, looking pink and mortified and like he was desperately trying to stop himself from sinking to the ground and calling it all quits.

Louis took pity on him and patted the hand that was still resting on his ribs. “Come on. I have some salted caramel cocoa my sister left me. No mallows, sorry, but I’ve got some whipped cream.”

Just like that, the bashful smile was back, and Louis wanted to live in the warmth of it. But his ass was wet. And living in the warmth of someone’s smile was easier to do whilst inside an already-toasty home.

“Come on, Curly,” Louis said, liking the way Harry’s blush deepened at the nickname. He led the way back through the tracks Harry had made when he thought he was coming to save Louis. They were quiet as they concentrated on maneuvering over the snowbank and up the slick steps of the old Victorian that Louis lovingly called home--except when it was trying to kill him.  

On that note …

He paused with his hand on the doorknob as he knocked crud off his boots and glanced back at Harry. “You’re not a serial killer are you?”

Harry narrowed his eyes at Louis, his face going serious. “Please, Louis, please tell me that’s not your screening criteria for letting strangers into your house.”

This kid. Louis huffed in fake indignation, hands on hips. “Well, clearly it is. So far it’s proven successful.” He waved at himself redundantly to show he was still alive.

“You know a serial killer’s gonna tell you he’s not a serial killer, Louis,” Harry said, reaching into the pocket of his jacket. He pulled out his wallet and then handed over a laminated ID.

“Isn’t it like when you ask a cop if he’s a cop and he has to tell you?” Louis took the card. “It’s entrapment otherwise I think.”

“Please tell me you know that’s not how it works,” Harry’s voice was climbing from a deep molasses drawl to high-pitched exasperation and Louis really, really should not find all of this as cute as he did.

But he lived in a small town and knew the same people since he’d grown up and good banter was really fucking hard to find, let alone this...he searched for a word and landed on... chemistry. That’s what was happening. They had really good fucking chemistry and it was only five minutes in. It made little air bubbles pop in his bloodstream--metaphorically of course, otherwise he’d be dead.

“Harry Styles,” Louis murmured. “Sounds fake. In fact, it sounds like a good serial killer’s name.”

Harry rolled his eyes. Louis wasn’t even looking and he could tell the guy rolled his eyes. “Yeah … well...Louis sounds … French.”

Louis tore his gaze away from the ID card--which informed him that Harry Styles was a professor at the small liberal arts college two towns over--and gaped at Harry. “Oh my god, you’re terrible at this aren’t you?”

“Terrible at what?”

“Flirting,” Louis said without thinking and Harry froze. His entire body, his face, his breathing, it all froze. And for one horrifying second Louis thought he’d gotten it wrong, that he’d hit his head so hard he was making up some sort of spark that wasn’t there and he’d just gone and…

But then Harry blinked and blushed and shifted and he was bashful again and Louis relaxed.

“So. Professor?” Louis switched the subject without any grace. Harry was desperate too, though, so he latched onto it.

“Yeah. Historian and professor,” he said, the words tumbling out. “Not serial killer.”

“Which you would say…” Louis reminded him as he finally opened the door and stepped inside. The house--thank god--was moderately tidy since he’d just put up his tinsel and fairy lights and wreaths and snowmen knick-knacks that morning and had had to clean to do so. It smelled vaguely of burnt vanilla from the batch of cookies he’d attempted and Christmas music played throughout the ground floor on his sound system.

“It’s like Santa’s workshop,” Harry said, stopping just behind him. If Louis stepped back, he’d be flush up against his chest.

“Uncanny,” Louis murmured because he was a little thrown by having Harry so close to him in his house. He stepped away. “I’m going to go change real quick if you don’t mind?”

“No, no, please do,” Harry said, all earnest, big eyes. “I could um you know”--he waved toward the kitchen--”make the hot chocolate because you’ll be”--he waved up stairs--”taking your clothes off and stuffohmygod.”

Louis laughed because. Well. It was the only option. “Hot chocolate is in the second cabinet to the right of the sink. Mugs are on the other side.” Even as he was talking he started walking backward, but kept his eyes on Harry’s face. It was still red from the cold and still gorgeous and he was biting his lip, looking embarrassed and Louis wanted to tug him up the stairs with him.

Instead he pointed toward the kitchen and then tore his eyes from Harry and dashed in the direction of his bedroom.

It didn’t take him long to strip down, towel off the cold residue that had soaked through his pants onto his skin, check for any broken bits, and pull on a soft pair of sweats.

By the time he walked back out, the music had been turned up a few notches and Mariah Carey’s dulcet tones covered his footsteps on the stairs as he skipped back down toward Harry.

Louis stopped just at the doorway of his kitchen and propped himself against the wall.

Harry had lost his coat at some point and was left in slim-fit dove-gray trousers that showcased long, lean legs and a high, pert bum. The look was topped off with a black button down, and there was dark ink peeking out beneath the rolled up sleeves, hinting at more underneath.

The song switched over to Wham’s Last Christmas just as Harry shifted up for the mugs. His hand paused for a moment and then he did a little fist pump in the air as the beat dropped.

And then… and then Louis’ entire life was made. Because Harry started dancing.

The hip twitches came first, just a little shift from side to side that could be written off as a hitch in his step. But then came the shoulder shimmy. Before Louis could even really process what was going on, the arms joined in the fun and then there was some sort of dad-at-a-barbecue-slash-The-Hustle move, paired--inexplicably--with the Electric Slide side step.

But nothing--nothing in the entire world--could have prepared Louis for the finale. Harry stopped his gyrations in the middle of the kitchen, lifted his hand and then brought the palm down onto his own ass cheek with a little thwack. It jiggled beneath the fine fabric and Harry giggled and Louis lost the feeling in his legs.  

“Ummmm,” the sound was more moan than anything else and Louis couldn’t stop it as much as he’d tried.

Harry froze, his palm still cradling his ass cheek as the music faded into that fucking annoying song with the chipmunks that were high on helium.

“Oh my god,” Harry whispered, seemingly unable to extract himself from the tableau of his own creation--his hip still popped, his head still tilted just so.

“I prefer the crossing guard myself,” Louis said, desperate to ease the situation for Harry despite the way blood pounded in his ears and the way his traitorous cock twitched. He brought his hands up and pretended to wave some people through an intersection to the tune of high-pitched rodent voices singing Merry Christmas.

“A classic,” Harry said weakly, but some of the mortification was fading from his face and he finally--thank you baby Jesus and all the wise men--let go of his own ass.

“So... the hot chocolate.” It was the only thing Louis could get his mouth to say because all he kept picturing was that moment--that _thwack_ , that _jiggle_ \--and his tongue had gone mostly useless in his mouth. He turned blindly toward the little remote that controlled the sound system and cut the music. The rodent voices died mid-screech and the house was suddenly too quiet.

“Yeah, I um found the mix but then the kettle wasn’t on the stove, so I dug in the back of your cabinet there and found the little teal one with the flowers--I really like the daisies on it--and heated up water and then was just going to put it all together but then that song--and I just have this thing with that song--came on and then you came down and then here we are.”

Louis bit his lip feeling slightly back in control of his body once more--as long as he viciously kept a lid on that mental image of _thwack_ and _jiggle._

“Fantastic,” Louis said, clapping his hands, once he was sure Harry had finished. He quite liked how the boy spoke. It wasn’t rushed, for all that it was clearly word vomit, but a slow meandering journey that eventually got to a destination that seemed far less important than the path they’d used to get there. “You pour it, I’ll get the whipped cream and then you’ll tell me who the hell you are, how you know my name and what you want from me.”

Harry’s eyes were wide. “Oh, yeah.”

“Oh yeah, indeed.”

***

About ten minutes later they were settled in Louis’ cozy living room, the soft glow from the newly hung Christmas lights painting Harry’s face in rainbow colors.

Louis tucked his feet beneath him, honestly surprised at how relaxed he felt with this stranger in his space. But Harry was cupping a mug of hot chocolate with overflowing whipped cream, and sitting on the edge of the couch looking both extremely comfortable and extremely nervous at the same time, and it all just felt … good.

“So…” Louis prompted, as he brought his own cup to his mouth. He flicked an eyebrow up to get the message across.

“Ah, yes, alright.” Harry placed the mug on the little table beside the sofa. “I’m here for your house.”

And… that was not what Louis had expected. “It’s not for sale.”

Harry scrunched his eyes shut in what Louis was coming to realize was a common expression. He wondered if Harry was beating himself up internally whenever he did that, and Louis kind of wanted to run his thumb along the deep crease between his brows and tell him everything was okay. Louis wasn’t judging him.  

“No sorry. Let me start again,” Harry lashes fluttered open and he locked eyes with Louis. “My grandfather lived here.”

“Ah,” Louis said, and that made more sense.

“Can I tell you a story?” Harry asked, leaning even further forward, his body vibrating with new energy. He was beautiful like that, lit from within with excitement.

“Please,” Louis said, and placed his mug to the side of his chair. He wanted his full attention on Harry.

Harry glanced around the living room, but his gaze had unfocused, like he was seeing not what was there, but what had been. “My grandfather Robert grew up in this town, and he loved this house. His family was poor, but he’d always walk by and say he was going to live here.”

Oh. Louis’ heart stuttered a little. His family hadn’t had much when he’d been growing up, either.

“When he was 21 the war broke out,” Harry continued, still at the edge of the cushions, his whole body eager to tell the story. “And he was shipped off to Europe. He flew fighter planes. That’s how he met Joe.”

“Joe?”

There was a little hint of pride and mischief in the way Harry smiled. “Joe. The love of his life.”

“Color me intrigued, Styles,” Louis said and Harry giggled a little, finally settling back against the sofa. His legs were spread, wide and relaxed and Louis wanted to climb into his lap. Which was absurd, considering he’d only known the man for an hour.

Still, it looked so warm and cozy and lovely.

“Joe Stephens, aka love of my grandfather’s life, was with the Tuskegee Airmen. That was the all African-American group of military pilots. Well not just the fighters, but the instructors and maintenance staff and navigators and everyone,” Harry said. “But they had one of the best escort records out there. They were amazing.”

Louis hummed, quietly. “I’ve heard of them. My grandfather talked about how respected they were.”

“He fought?”

Louis nodded, but this wasn’t his time to talk. Instead he tipped his head to get Harry going again.

“Well Joe came to the rescue of my grandfather one time. That’s how they met,” Harry’s voice was so fond and Louis melted a bit deeper into his chair. Fuck. This guy was so cute. “They had to hole up in the forest near this little town on the border of France. It rained for three days straight and they could barely shift to go to the bathroom for fear of being found.”

“Very romantic,” Louis drawled, but he was so into this story.

Harry laughed. “Yeah, not so much. But I guess love’s funny that way right?” He shot Louis a little lopsided grin. “When it’s right, it’s right. Circumstances be damned.”

Louis didn’t know why there was heat in his cheeks, why there was a pleasant brandy-like warmth spreading from his belly at the idea. He reached for his mug to give his hands something to do.

“But Joe and Robert--my grandfather--ended up hunkered down next to each other. And they started talking. About home, mostly. But then as the days dragged on it turned more serious,” Harry said, not seeming to pick up on anything odd in Louis’ expression, thank god. “They’d both lost friends. Robert hated the war, but Joe was a bit more…”

“Gung-ho?”

Harry smiled and sort of shook his head, sort of nodded. “Kind of. He thought it was a worthy cause. Wanted to do his part and all.”

“But Robert…”

“He wasn’t a coward or anything,” Harry rushed out. “Just. He had an academic mind and preached peace. They’d get in such fights about it.”

Louis grinned. “I bet the make-up sex was fantastic.”

“Ew no, gross stop,” Harry pretended to cover his ears. “Those are my grandfathers you’re talking about.”

“Just picture it, them getting all heated and then…”

Harry kicked his foot out even though there was no way it would reach Louis and pouted. “Mean!”

Cackling, Louis tucked his legs all the way up to his chest and rested his chin on his knees. “Keep going.”

“They lost touch after that because it was the war,” Harry said on a shrug. “But Robert never forgot Joe. He was pretty sure the other man only thought of him as a war buddy, and Robert said he tried to convince himself that’s all he felt at the time, too. He would think about him so much, though. Eventually he couldn’t fool himself any longer. Not that he thought there was anything to do about it. Even if he’d realized it was more than bro pals being bro pals, he thought there was less than zero chance of anything coming of it.”

“Of course,” Louis murmured. “Not exactly an open and welcome time, that.”

“Not only gay but interracial,” Harry said. “But Robert never stopped thinking about Joe. When he got back here, he applied to the college…”

“That you now work at,” Louis interjected.

“Yeah. It’s kind of… meaningful to me, you could say.”

“I’d imagine.” Was everything this kid was going to say make Louis crush even harder? Who was this perfect? Who was this endearing? And he’d just stumbled onto Louis somehow?

“So he got his degree and met Mary Jo,” Harry said.

Louis sat up straighter. “Plot twist.”

Harry’s smile turned rueful. “Well I am here after all.”

“Oh, right,” he pretended to slap himself in the forehead. “I should have seen it coming.”

And you know what? Fuck it. In the least subtle move of his entire life, Louis pushed himself to his feet and crossed the small space to sink down on the cushion beside Harry. He curled up, resting his elbow on the back of the couch so that he was facing Harry.

If Harry was taken aback by the sudden shift, he didn’t show it. He simply pulled one of those long, gorgeous legs up beneath him as he turned toward Louis, mirroring his position easily.

It was in that moment Louis realized how much Harry had relaxed from before. He was no longer narrating their every action--which had been cute but also a clear sign of nerves--and his body had softened completely, all his lines loosening.

Louis liked it. He liked that Harry was starting to feel comfortable. He liked the way he’d made himself cozy in Louis’ space. He liked this conversation and this afternoon that was lit with fairy lights and had started with him falling unceremoniously from a ladder into snow mush. He liked Harry.

“So Mary Jo,” he said to get them back on track.

“Mary Jo,” Harry agreed and scooched just the tiniest bit closer. “She lived in the college town with her parents, and she and Robert got married two years in. She was very, very sweet by my grandfather’s accounts.”

“But she had a vagina,” Louis said.

“Yeah, there was that.” The dimple popped then, and Louis nearly lost it. “My grandfather was born a year after the wedding.”

“Quick.”

Harry shrugged. “And yet Robert was still thinking about Joe.”

“I know there’s a happy ending to this, but I’m dying here,” Louis reached out and poked Harry’s shoulder. He let his hand rest that much closer when he let it drop.

“Patience, patience.” Harry grinned as he said it though. “Okay, let me try to fast-forward. Robert and MJ moved to this town and Robert got a job at the college. They were here five years…”

“And Robert still couldn’t get over Joe? After only knowing him for three days? Man those must have been some conversations,” Louis said.

“I think it was probably the first time Robert let himself actually … you know… like a guy,” Harry said.

Their eyes met. “Yeah, I know,” Louis said softly.

There was a pause where it seemed neither of them breathed. And then Harry blinked and looked away, biting his lower lip. “MJ died in the winter of ‘53 from the flu of all things. And Robert was left alone with my dad, Tommy.”

“Oh, no, that’s terrible.” This time Louis laid his hand on Harry’s forearm where it rested against the couch. Harry stilled beneath his touch, but neither of them moved to break the connection.

“Robert went a little… um… wild,” Harry continued. “He left Tommy with MJ’s parents and went on a bender in New York City. For like weeks. The story goes that about two months into his ‘wild times’--that’s what my mom calls it--he bought a bus ticket to Misery, Alabama.”

“No, that’s too perfect,” Louis said, lightly slapping Harry’s arm. “Now you’re making things up.”

“Swear to god,” Harry made a little sign of the cross over his heart. “It was Joe’s hometown.”

“Fuck,” Louis didn’t really know what to do with the surplus of emotion that was coating his throat, so he just blinked hard and swore again.

“Yeah. He shows up at the bus station, reeking of booze and vomit and two months of hard partying and he asks the first person he sees where Joe Stephens is.”

“He was there, right? He was still there?”

That dimple. “He was. He lived in a tiny apartment above a bar. He took Robert in, got him in a shower, got him in bed--no not like that, gutter much--and got some real food in him. Apparently Robert slept for days. And Joe was just Joe. He slept on the couch and waited for Robert to come back to himself.”

“That must have been so weird for him though,” Louis said. “Especially if he didn’t even remember Robert.”

“Oh he remembered,” Harry said, his eyes shimmering. “He still thought of Robert, too. Even all those years later.”

“Fuck. They were soulmates weren’t they?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah.”

They both paused for a moment, sitting in the echo of those weighty words. Louis shifted closer so that his knee was brushing Harry’s. His hand was still resting on Harry’s arm.

“It wasn’t easy. But Joe helped Robert kind of...pull himself out of the funk he’d fallen into,” Harry finally continued. “They talked… a lot. About Mary Jo, about Tommy, about life after the war. Joe had PTSD, though that’s not what they called it at the time. He’d fought as a respected pilot and come home to a deeply racist and segregated South. He wasn’t out, but he’d never married, and people suspected. He didn’t have it easy.”

“I can’t even imagine,” Louis said, and he wanted more, he wanted all of it. He wanted to read books and books on these two men and their story. But he also wanted to hear their happy ending. He prodded Harry’s shoulder.

“So anyway. I think it was a week in and they finally confessed their feelings. I picture it being accidental…”

“Ohhh I love a good accidental boner trope,” Louis teased and Harry nudged his shoulder with his free hand (“Stopppp”).

“But it was probably planned. Or at least they’d been leading up to it for a while,” Harry said. “They didn’t really know what to do, but Joe insisted that they go get Tommy from MJ’s parents. They also decided it would be easier to live up north, if they were going to have a shot at making it work.”

Louis grinned because they were on their way toward a happy ending.

“Anyway they settled into this house,” Harry waved toward the room in general. “With Tommy. I don’t even know if they tried to explain their living situation to people, but that’s one of the things I’m trying to figure out.”

“You’re going to write a book on them,” Louis guessed. Professor, historian, grandson. It made sense.

Harry straightened a bit. “Ye...Yeah I am. That’s why I took the position at the college. They’re very supportive of the project.”

“That’s amazing, Harry,” Louis said, a happy little buzz thrumming in his veins. Not only was the project very cool and worthwhile, but that also meant Harry was going to be around for a little while at least. Which, shouldn’t do things to Louis’ belly but did anyway.

“They stayed here for another five years,” Harry said, his voice turning a bit wistful. “But then they made the decision to move South again once the civil rights movement erupted. Joe and his worthy causes.”

“Did Robert not want to?”

“No that’s the funny thing,” Harry said. “According to my dad it was Robert who initially suggested it. He knew Joe wouldn’t be happy sitting on the sidelines, and that’s really all Robert wanted in life. For Joe to be happy.”

“Lord,” Louis said, and his eyes weren’t wet at all. Nope, not even a little.

“They got by. It definitely wasn’t all rainbows and butterflies, especially with the added complication of my dad,” Harry said. “But they loved each other so much. It was like one of those once-in-a-million-years kind of loves.”

“They’ve passed?” Louis asked gently, because of the way Harry was speaking of them.

There was a sadness in Harry’s eyes that was heartbreaking. “Joe went about seven years ago. Cancer. I thought Robert was going to follow, it shattered him so much. But he passed about six months ago.”

“They had a lot of years together,” Louis said and it wasn’t just a platitude. It sounded like they’d lived a long, happy life.

“I lived with Robert his last year,” Harry said, his voice thick with unshed tears. “We got in the habit of taking a glass of port on the porch after dinner. He’d tell me all the stories of their time together. How Joe proposed by renting a rowboat and taking Robert out on the lake only to drop both the oars in the water and strand them in the middle. How they’d got married in front of this fireplace”--Harry tipped his head toward the burning logs--”in front of Tommy and a few good friends even though it wasn’t recognized. How Robert had bought Joe tickets to Paris on their tenth anniversary, but Joe had booked tickets to Hawaii as a surprise, too.”

Louis laughed. “Oh god.”

Harry let his head fall against his shoulder as he watched Louis. “They went to Paris. Because that’s what they’d talked about the first time they’d met. How much they’d both wanted to go to Paris.”

Louis couldn’t even deny the tears any longer. One slid down his cheek and he swiped at it. “Such saps.”

“The sappiest,” Harry said, his own eyes damp. “Joe didn’t get to see same-sex marriage legalized, but they both knew it was coming. They renewed their vows a few months before Joe took a turn for the worse. We went to Hawaii then. It wasn’t official. But you know, it felt”--Harry covered his heart with his palm--”more real than anything I’ve ever experienced.”

Louis breathed out. “Jeeze, Styles. You really know how to tell a story.”

Harry laughed and it was tear-coated but it was there. “I hope.”

“It’s going to be a best-seller,” Louis vowed.

“My goal is to sell more than one copy to my mom,” Harry said.

“Well, done,” Louis said. “I’m definitely buying one.”

Harry shifted closer, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Thanks.”

***

They talked for hours, and Louis couldn’t help but compare them to Joe and Robert. He was chatty in general, but it was so rare for conversation to flow so easily, with no awkward silences or false starts or stilted pauses.

There was something special about this, he could already tell.

It was only when he noticed the way the room was made up of more shadows than light that Louis realized how late it had gotten. By that point he’d all but crawled into Harry’s lap without either of them really acknowledging the closeness.

Harry had just finished telling a story about his time abroad getting his master’s, when his stomach rumbled loud enough for Louis to hear.

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry it’s just that I didn’t eat lunch because I was so nervous about coming here and i didn’t know if you’d be okay with me seeing the house and then when I did get here you were on the ladder and…”

“Harry.” Louis squeezed his arm once, not to interrupt him but to calm him down a little. He really didn’t want to revert back to nervous Harry as endearing as that version of him was. “It’s okay. Can I offer you dinner? Although that might be take out? I don’t think I have much in the fridge.”

“No, no.” Harry stood up so abruptly that Louis sank back against the cushions a little in surprise. “I’ve taken up too much of your time already. I’ll just see myself out.”

Louis wanted to protest but Harry was already halfway across the room, and Louis could barely get his mind to work fast enough. A few messages were getting through like, _no he’s leaving_  and _stop him please_.

By the time he made it to the hallway, Harry was trying to shove his gigantic feet back into chelsea boots that were really not appropriate for the weather.

“Hey,” he said as softly and calmly as possible to the fleeing man. Louis didn’t want to startle him further. “I’m sorry if I gave any impression that you’d overstayed, but that’s not the case at all.”

Harry froze, one leg up like he was a flamingo, his toes caught in opening of his boot, his eyes scrunched up again. Louis hated it. He wanted that relaxed Harry back, the one that had leaned into his touch so easily. This one beat himself up internally and got embarrassed over nothing.  

“No I…” Harry trailed off, his foot still in the air.

“Talk to me,” Louis implored.

Harry glanced up at that finally, his cheeks pink, his eyes dilated. “If I stay, I won’t want to leave.”

Louis pulse fluttered. “Who says I would want you to?”

The foot finally dropped to the ground as Harry straightened. “Don’t tease me. Please.”

It was a broken request, and Louis felt it in the space beneath his breastbone. “No. I wouldn’t. Not about … whatever this is.”

Harry pressed his lips together. “You feel it?”

“‘Course,” Louis said, taking a step closer.

The silence hung for a moment, heady and taut. And then, then, their bodies crashed together. Harry must have thrown himself at Louis, because the momentum took them a few steps until Louis’ back was pressed up against the wall.

It didn’t matter though, nothing mattered, except that they were kissing, finally kissing. It was sweet and slow at first, an introduction, a hello. But soon, it turned deeper. Louis’ tongue prodded at the seam of Harry’s mouth and he let Louis in easily. He tasted like caramel and chocolate and something that was undeniably Harry.

Harry’s hands were everywhere. Cupping Louis’ face, petting at his sides, sliding along his flank. Louis pressed into the touch even as he encircled Harry’s waist with his own arms to pull him closer.

A thigh slipped between Louis’ legs, pressing up against his half-hard dick. The desire  struck like lightning, fast and electrifying. Louis’ body was hot and dizzy drunk off lust even though they hadn’t had a sip of alcohol.

“Harry,” Louis murmured when they finally separated enough to breathe. Neither went far, their lips still almost resting against each other’s as they panted. Louis rocked down, once, on Harry’s thigh and Harry whined before burying his head in Louis’ neck.

The shift in position provided Louis with a face full of curls and Harry’s lovely pinewood scent. He breathed in deep as Harry mouthed at the sensitive skin of Louis’ throat, just next to his Adam’s Apple. Harry’s fingers were slowly sliding over Louis’ hips so that they were resting on the soft swell beneath Louis’ sweats.

“Lou,” Harry gasped, his hips rocking against Louis’. Neither of them had anything to hide, their groins pressed flush up against each other.

“Bedroom,” Louis managed to get out. He wanted Harry to drop to his knees right here in the entryway, but he also knew he didn’t want their first time to be like that. Overthinking the idea that there could be more times felt dangerous so he pushed the thought away and concentrated on dragging Harry up the stairs behind him.

Harry’s foot caught on one of the steps and he bumped a bit into Louis on the landing but they managed to remain upright.

“Sorry, sorry.” The apology came quick and breathless and Louis had to just...stop. He was one stair up and it put him at the perfect height to slide his hands into the dark curls that framed Harry’s flushed and happy face. Louis drank in the sight of him, then slowly lowered his lips to Harry’s.

They watched each other until the last moment when their mouths met. The kiss was soft again and Louis could feel the smile that Harry was trying to control.

Harry’s fingers were trailing down to Louis’ ass again, palming over the soft flesh, and Louis was inspired. He jumped a little bit so that he could wrap his legs around Harry’s waist.

“Ommph,” Stumbling, Harry’s hands shifted to the back of Louis’ thighs as their groins pressed together. “Oh my god.”

Louis ducked his head to nip at Harry’s earlobe, then swirled his tongue into the shell of it. “Is this okay?”

“I um...I think you’re putting too much faith in me,” Harry huffed a little, leaning his shoulder into the wall for support. “You’ve already fallen once today.”

Laughing, Louis slapped at Harry’s shoulder. “Then you’ll have to be careful not to drop me.”

Harry’s eyes went wide and then narrowed again in concentration as he breathed deep. Like he was about to attempt some kind of herculean feat.

“Hey, I’m not that heavy.” Louis was just teasing though. He liked this. He liked sex that was fun and didn’t take itself too seriously, he liked the determination that settled into the lines of Harry’s face, he liked the feel of Harry’s hands cradling his body.

“No no no it’s not that at all Louis,” Harry rushed out as he took the first step. They both kind of jostled a bit, but again, remained upright. “It’s just you know”--huff, step--“precious cargo and if I bruised that ass of yours”--wobble, step--“oh god I’m sorry I didn’t mean to say ‘that ass of yours’ like you’re an object, but I really like it a lot especially in these sweats I almost swallowed”--cough, swivel, step--”my tongue when I saw you in them in the kitchen even though I almost died when you caught me dancing and why am I talking about that shut up Harry.”

By the time they got to the top of the stairs, Louis was in hysterics, there was a slick-sheen of sweat along Harry’s temples and they were both shaking.

“Don’t bruise my ass,” Louis cried as Harry’s grip started to slacken.

Harry’s eyes were wild and desperate as he tried to hold on, but it was clear he was at his limit. Still laughing, Louis jumped down and took off running when his feet hit the floor.

He tossed an easy “catch me if you can” over his shoulder to where Harry stood dumbfounded.

“You’re such a prick,” Harry called after him, but the boots on the floor told a different story and Louis giggled as he threw his body onto his bed. It gave softly beneath his weight as Harry crashed through the door behind him.

“What took you so long, stud?” Louis asked and Harry growled and was on him in an instant.

The first time was fast and rough, their hips rutting against each other to find that blessed pressure that would offer sweet relief. Slick lips found slick lips and fingers dug into flesh and breaths mingled as everything stopped being funny and started being urgent and hot and sticky.

They both came in their pants like teenagers, with Harry collapsing over Louis’ now pliant body.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” Harry whispered into Louis’ neck where he’d buried his face. “That was…”

“Fucking amazing,” Louis said, slipping his palm beneath the back of Harry’s shirt. They hadn’t even managed to get that off in time. “In case you didn’t notice I’m in the same position as you are sweetheart.”

He shifted his hips up to prove his point and they both wrinkled their noses at the feel of come and damp fabric against their softening cocks.

“Yeah?” The question was quiet and hopeful and lovely. Louis’ heart clenched for a moment before he breathed out.

“Yeah sweetheart. Fucking amazing.” Louis placed his lips against Harry’s jaw, just because he wanted the contact. “It’s quite the compliment you know.”

Harry finally lifted his head at that. The light was soft in the room, just at the edge of night, but still bright enough to caress Harry’s face. Louis thumbed at the boy’s lip. It was plump and kiss-worn.

And there was that dimple again. This kid was going to be the death of him.

“I liked it too,” Harry said softly, the shy admission going straight to that spot beneath Louis’ breastbone again. “I like...you.”

Louis groaned, letting his head fall back against the pillow. So fucking lovely. “Same, sweetheart,” he said when he opened his eyes to find Harry watching him, worry in his eyes. “Very much. Same.”

Pleasure came swift with a small smile, and they kissed again, gentle and easy. When they broke apart once more, Harry finally rolled off Louis. Grimacing again at their uncomfortable situations, Louis skip-hopped over to the bathroom to get a damp washcloth. On the way back he made a detour to his dresser to get them both a pair of underwear.

After stripping Harry out of his clothes, Louis cleaned him off, running a knuckle along Harry’s soft cock, dragging the washcloth along the seam of his groin, placing a soft kiss just beneath his belly button. Harry watched him the whole time with those wide eyes that were more shadows than anything else at this point.

When Louis finally pulled the briefs up over Harry’s hips, the boy whispered a quiet, “thanks.”

Smiling, Louis shifted so that he could wrap Harry in his arms. Their legs tangled as Harry’s breathing evened out and Louis buried his face in the soft curls that smelled of pinewood.

***

Louis woke slowly. There was a warm body snugged up against his, there was a steady heartbeat beneath his palm, there was a lovely ass pressed into his half-hard cock. He blinked as the pieces slotted themselves together. Harry.

The boy snuffled and shifted, but he didn’t appear to be on the verge of waking up. Louis had to go to the bathroom, so he shifted very slowly and very carefully away from Harry even though his body cried out for him to stay. He missed the warmth immediately as he crossed the cold, dark hallway to the toilet.  

As he flushed, his stomach rumbled. He glanced into his bedroom, but Harry was still just a soft lump beneath covers, so he decided it was safe to venture downstairs. When he got to the kitchen he put on a kettle and then opened his fridge. He hadn’t been lying earlier when he’d said they might need to do take out--but a glance at the clock told him they’d probably missed their window for that.

“Alexa, put on some Christmas music. Low volume,” he called softly from where his head was tucked into the fridge. “White Christmas” came on and Louis smiled as he pushed past the jar of pickles. There had to be something they could eat.

Then he remembered Mrs. Chapman had brought over some cookies that by some miracle Louis hadn’t devoured on sight. And, yes, there they were behind a six pack of his favorite IPA.

“Aha,” he whispered in triumph as he brought the plate out. The kettle whistled and the music switched into Jingle Bells. Louis made a mug of tea for Harry on the chance that the boy had woken up.

He was just arranging it all onto a tray when the room went quiet for a beat and then Last Christmas came on. Unbidden, along with the notes came the memory of _thwack_ and _jiggle._ Harry’s palm landing on his own ass, the coy little look beneath lashes, the fucking giggle.

“To save me from tears” _thwack_ “I’ll give it to someone special” _jiggle._

And that’s all it took. His cock twitched beneath the soft fabric of his briefs and all thoughts about cookies and tea were abandoned.

He took the stairs two at a time, hopeful but still not enough of a jerk to actually wake Harry if he was still sleeping.

But luck or fate or the god of sex and orgasms was on his side, because just as he tiptoed back into the room, Harry shuffled out from underneath the cocoon of blankets. “Louis?”

His voice was rough and sleep-slurred and oh so gorgeous, and Louis wanted to pounce. They hadn’t talked much about boundaries and limits and preferences and Louis didn’t want to rush the discussion, but he also really wanted his lips on Harry’s skin.

“Hi, love,” Louis murmured as he slipped back in bed. He shifted so that he was leaning over Harry, whose eyelids were heavy and his cheeks warm with sleep.

“Hi,” Harry whispered back.

Louis slid a hand into Harry’s curls and tugged just a little. Harry’s lashes fluttered against his porcelain skin in pleasure. “Is this okay?” Louis asked, bending to nuzzle at the spot beneath Harry’s ear.

“Very okay yes please very much yes,” Harry said and Louis laughed quietly.

“How do you like it?” Louis pressed the question into Harry’s neck, and then nibbled down to his Adam’s Apple. He sucked at the skin there and Harry moaned.

“Any way. Just want you,” Harry said, and Louis pulled back a little. He no longer looked sleepy, his eyes wide, his lips wet from his own tongue, his fists curled into the sheets by their hips.

“Hmm,” Louis pushed himself up, considering their options. He was quite versatile, and only had a slight preference either way. But something about the way Harry was staring at him made the decision easy. “I want to ride you.”

Harry sucked in air and then started coughing while nodding his head. “Yes. Want. That. Yes.”

Louis smirked as he bent down to peck at Harry’s lips. It was the first proper kiss since they’d woken up and it felt intimate, like they were already familiar with and craved the easy contact of mouth against mouth without it needing to turn deeper.

Then Louis reached down for Harry’s hands, gently uncurling the fingers from where they gripped the sheets.

“I’m going to have you do something for me, though, baby,” Louis said. “If you want.”

Harry just nodded, his eyes intense on Louis’ face.

“Can you hold onto the headboard?” Louis asked as he directed Harry’s arms up and over his head so that he was all stretched out beneath Louis. “Oh that’s gorgeous, love.”

Harry’s knuckles were white where they clutched the wooden spindles and Louis touched his hand gently to get him to relax. .

The boy took a deep breath but then visibly tried relax. He was rock hard against Louis’ ass.

Louis smiled, going in for another quick kiss. “Good job,” Louis said against Harry’s mouth, and Harry’s hips twitched up. It was an interesting reaction, one Louis noted for later.

But now he wanted to savour Harry who was all lean and taut and hard lines and soft hips and clenching abs and god, always always, those big wide eyes.

Louis trailed his fingers down Harry’s wrist, pausing to enjoy the fast flutter of heartbeat against delicate skin before sliding down to the crook of his elbow. Shifting up, he licked into the crease, tasting salt and Harry and sex. He pressed kisses along the underside of Harry’s bicep as he made his way further down.

When he got to Harry’s armpit, Harry whined high and embarrassed, but didn’t let go of the headboard. “Good job, baby,” Louis said as he breathed in Harry’s clean scent and shifted over so that he was once again straddling Harry’s hips. His ass settled against Harry’s cock just right, with it nudging at Louis’ crack, and he licked his lips, hungry.

But they’d rushed the first time, and he didn’t want to rush this one.

So instead of just rocking down hard against Harry, Louis flicked at one of his nipples and took the other into his mouth. He sucked and laved and nipped at the pink bud as he rolled the other between fingers that pinched just a little too hard. But if the way Harry sounded and the way his hips moved beneath Louis were any indication, the boy loved it.

“Wanna hear you,” Louis said, placing a wet-open mouthed kiss to the areola of the nipple he’d just been playing with so that it was pink and puffy and beautiful.

It was like Harry had been waiting for permission. Instead of biting his lip like he had been, he arched into Louis’ mouth, encouragement in the form of nonsense words dripping from his lips. Louis smiled against his skin, petting down his sides, fingers catching on his ribcage where it strained up and away from the bed.

“That’s it baby,” Louis murmured and Harry whimpered. “Like it when I call you that?”

Harry’s eyes were desperate as he nodded. “Yes.”

“Gorgeous, fucking gorgeous.” Louis couldn’t help it, he grinded down on Harry’s cock. And fuck it. They would have time to explore every inch of each other later, to explore every desire and kink and preference that they could think of. If Louis had his way, they would never leave this bed for anything other than food.

But now, now, god he wanted Harry inside of him. First, he quickly rid both of them of their briefs so that Harry was gloriously, so gloriously, naked in his bed, stretched out, hard and leaking and flushed from head to toe. Then Louis reached for the lube and condoms he kept tucked in the bedside drawer and dropped them by Harry’s hip. The boy watched his movements, his eyes flicking between the lube and Louis’ hands. He knew where this was going.

Louis slicked up a couple fingers, and maintained eye contact with Harry as he reached behind himself and touched his rim. It had been a while so he was going to have to go slower than he’d like.

Just as he was about to push into himself though, Harry whined. He was biting his lip again, as if trying to restrain himself from asking for something. Which. Just wouldn’t do.

“Baby, talk to me,” Louis said, still holding the tip of his finger against his own hole.

There was a debate going on inside Harry’s head, Louis could see it, but he just waited him out.

“Wanna see Lou,” Harry finally said, the words so quiet. “Can I...Can I see?”

The request sent a stab of desire to his groin, and he bent to kiss Harry. It was hot and sloppy and deep and Louis almost didn’t want to pull away. “Thank you for telling me what you want, baby.”

Harry flushed an even deeper pink but looked so fucking pleased, and Louis considered the best way to maneuver this situation.

He settled with just flipping around, so that his ass was above Harry’s chest. It was vulnerable, oh so vulnerable, but Harry moaned and then his breathing turned fast. Harry’s cock was inches from Louis’ face, and was hard and straining against the boy’s tight stomach.

“Wanna eat you out,” Harry said, and there was a hitch in his voice that told Louis he was on the edge of something.

That sounded like everything good in the world, but that’s not what he wanted right now. “Next time, baby? Okay? I promise I’ll sit on your face for hours.”

Louis smiled as Harry’s hips twitched again. And then, he balanced himself on his knees, reached back to pull his cheeks apart and then slipped his slicked-up finger past his rim.

“Oh my god,” Harry breathed out. “Shit. Fuck. Ohmygod.”

The reverence in Harry’s voice made Louis’ chest tight, his groin tight, his balls tight. Everything was going to shatter if they didn’t act soon.

He started fucking himself back on his own finger until the give was smooth enough to slip another in. The entire time Harry’s breathing was ragged, his thighs trembling. A pearl of precum spurted from the head of his gorgeous, red cock when Louis scissored his fingers and Louis couldn’t help himself. He bent down to lick at it, the move putting his hole even closer to Harry’s face. Harry laughed, breathless and more in disbelief than any kind of amusement.

“I’m not gonna…” Harry started, and trailed off. “Louis I can’t ….”

“Okay baby, okay,” Louis said. He was loose enough. He swung around, settling himself against Harry’s belly, the lube dripping out of his ass was slick against Harry’s happy trail.

Harry was the picture of sex. His muscles were straining from his efforts to hold onto the headboard, his pupils were blown, his hair was damp with sweat, and his chest was heaving at the effort.

“You should see yourself, fuck,” Louis whispered, dragging his thumb along Harry’s lips. Harry opened his mouth for Louis, so pliant, so _good_ for him. Louis slipped inside and pressed down on his tongue and Harry sucked, his lips tight against Louis’ thumb. “Fuck. Okay, baby. You did so good, I’m so proud of you.”

Harry’s eyes were damp, and Louis thought he might be overwhelmed, so he pulled back a little, petting down his side again.

“How are you, baby? Are you okay? Are you with me?” Louis asked.

But Harry was nodding before he could even finish the question. “So good, Lou. So happy. Just want you.”

Louis watched him for a second longer, then smiled relieved at the way Harry’s eyes focused on him. Then he reached for the condom. Neither of them talked as he slid it over Harry’s cock, gripping the base tight just in case. It seemed to offer Harry a brief moment of relief and Louis realized how neglectful of the poor thing he’d been. He stroked it a couple times and silently promised that he would spend hours worshipping it later. But for now…

“Okay?” Louis asked one more time. He was kneeling over Harry, the boy’s cock in his hand to line himself up.

“So much more than okay,” Harry said, his voice coated with desire.

Louis smiled at him and then shifted back so that the head of Harry’s cock nudged at Louis’ rim. They both groaned when Louis sank down to take him in.

The stretch was just on the right side of painful, and Louis didn’t stop until he was fully seated on Harry, his ass flush up against Harry’s groin. His own thighs were shaking as he adjusted to being filled.

He tossed his head back, exposing the long line of his throat to Harry’s view, his fingers resting on the tops of his legs. They sat there for a moment, their breathing rough and uneven as Harry throbbed within him.

Louis’ erection hadn’t flagged at all with the bit of pain. It begged for friction, for a quick hand and a few strokes, but Louis ignored it.

“You’re so pretty, so so so pretty,” Harry mumbled, and Louis opened his eyes to find Harry watching him with undisguised lust and vulnerability.

“So are you, baby,” Louis said, and kissed him, so gentle in contrast to the rock hard cock that was splitting him apart.

Once they broke apart, Louis knew he had to move. They’d both go crazy like this if he didn’t.

So he rode Harry, sliding up and down that beautiful cock until it hit all the right places. White hot electricity shot through his veins when it nudged at his prostate, and he tried to chase the feeling again. And again. And again.

By the time his balls started to draw up against his body, they were both sweat-slicked and shaking and trying so desperately not to come because it was so fucking hot. This. Them.

“Louis…” Harry begged, beyond coherence. His abs were clenched, his biceps were bulging, his hips were thrusting up in erratic bursts. And still he hadn’t let go of the headboard.

Louis clenched his ass tight just as he let gravity pull him down so that he was balls rested against Harry’s pelvis. “Such a good boy.”

As soon as the words left Louis’ lips, Harry arched up, his head thrown back, his feet pressed flat against the mattress. Two jagged thrusts up into Louis’ ass and he was coming. It was the most beautiful thing Louis had ever seen and he prayed this memory would never, ever fade.

He cooed at Harry as the boy’s orgasm ripped through him and stroked his chest, tweaked his nipples, petted at his quivering belly.

When Harry opened his eyes, his lashes were sooty and damp. “On my face, Lou.”

Louis’ breathing hitched at the suggestion, but he couldn’t ignore the way it almost triggered his own orgasm.

“You sure?” he asked even as he shifted so that Harry’s softening cock slid out of his aching hole.

Harry just nodded, his eyes begging.

Louis shuffled up so that he hovered over Harry as he stroked himself. He was so hard it wasn’t going to take long. His eyes traced over that beautiful face, the flushed cheeks, the damp eyes, the jaw that had just a hint of stubble burn. Then Harry opened his mouth. His tongue was pink and so inviting and Louis rubbed a finger over the tip of his his sensitive head and it was all over. Pleasure rocked through him, as he came. He aimed for Harry’s lips, but then trailed his leaking come down over his chin, along his cheeks.

_Mine_. It was primitive and ridiculous but he couldn’t deny the satisfaction of marking Harry as his, even if only for this short moment.

Harry chased Louis’ cock and then closed his lips around the head of it, suckling gently while the last pulses rolled through Louis’ body. Their eyes were locked on each other and Louis couldn’t bring himself to stop the sweet torture even when it turned a bit painful.

But Harry’s tongue was sliding into the creases of his softening cock, his arms still stretched above his head, and Louis thought this was the best thing to ever happen to him.

Finally, finally he pulled back, regretfully, and his cock popped from between Harry’s lips. Harry looked sad to have it go.

Louis reached up and uncurled Harry’s fingers from the spindles, massaging the tiny muscles of his palms, kissing his wrists, rubbing gently at his arms and shoulders as they relaxed for the first time since they started this.

He placed soft kisses and praise against Harry’s cheeks, against his lips, against the soft skin beneath his ear. “So beautiful for me. So gorgeous and perfect.” Louis kept massaging the boy’s muscles, making sure everything was loose now that he was now longer straining.

When he was satisfied that Harry felt good and content, he made a quick trip to the bathroom to get another washcloth and wiped the fluids and lube and sweat from both their bodies.

Then once again he climbed beneath the sheets, and curled himself around the boy who was already half-asleep.

“Harry,” Louis whispered, throwing his leg over Harry’s hip.

“Hmmm?”

“I’m really glad Joe and Robert met,” Louis said. _Because it brought me you._ That part was better left unsaid, for now.

There was a smile in Harry’s still-slurred voice. “Me too.”

***

**One week later**

Louis was in line at Starbuck’s when it happened. He hadn’t really been paying attention to his surroundings, his attention on his phone.

But then those familiar notes started to play. He looked up on instinct, but he wasn’t seeing his fellow customers or the harried baristas behind the counter or the Christmas decorations or the shelves bursting with merchandise.

No. He was back in his kitchen, leaning against the wall, watching Harry dance. And here came his favorite part.

“This year to save my from tears, I’ll give it to someone special.”

_Thwack. Jiggle._

His cock twitched, just a little, beneath his pants and he quickly thumbed over to his text messages. The one with Harry was at the top. They couldn’t quite seem to ever stop talking, even though they’d spent five of the past seven nights together.

_Can’t wait to see you, baby. Tonight, my place?_

**I’ll bring the marshmallows :)))**

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed it!! If you're so inclined you can find the fic post [ here!](http://briannamarguerite.tumblr.com/post/169008169417/and-marshmallows-107k-by-briamaria-louis)


End file.
